


Blood Is Thicker

by Ghanisfics



Series: Blood Is Thicker [1]
Category: 30 Seconds to Mars, Actor RPF, Alexander (2004) RPF, American Actor RPF, Colin Farrell RPF, Jared Leto RPF, Shannon Leto RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-09
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghanisfics/pseuds/Ghanisfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The prologue of this series was written by someone else. Unfortunately I can't post it here as I can't contact the author and the original post is gone. Summary of prologue: Jared has just broken up with Scarlet. His brother and band-mate Shannon, photographer in his free time, has a new girlfriend. They make a deal: she'll let him take pictures of her if he gives her pictures of his brother. Shannon lures his brother into letting him make the pictures which ends up renewing their incestuous relationship.</p><p>Fair warning: this series is unfinished and will likely remain so.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Blood Is Thicker 01

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue of this series was written by someone else. Unfortunately I can't post it here as I can't contact the author and the original post is gone. Summary of prologue: Jared has just broken up with Scarlet. His brother and band-mate Shannon, photographer in his free time, has a new girlfriend. They make a deal: she'll let him take pictures of her if he gives her pictures of his brother. Shannon lures his brother into letting him make the pictures which ends up renewing their incestuous relationship.
> 
> Fair warning: this series is unfinished and will likely remain so.

Title: Blood is thicker 01  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared Leto  
Pairing: Shannon/Jared, Shannon/a stewardess from a renowned French airline company  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Slash. Incest. Some angst. And (*shudder*) het slash, very minor het slash, don't let it scare you off, it's not the focus of the story.  
Disclaimer: This would scare me if it had actually happened. Well, it would, at first, I think. But maybe after that ... /Shut up!/ But it DIDN'T happen. And I'm not doing this to have an extra buck at the end of the month. Sadly enough. I could use it.  
Beta: None, so there could be some nasty surprises in there. English is not my mother tongue, Dutch is.  
Summary: what happened before, and what should follow ...  
Music: 'I'll Be Yours' - Placebo

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He came through for me, my beautiful Shannon. I see it in his eyes, as he comes up to me on that long stretch of wild beach bordering the Golden Gate Park to the west of San Francisco. A specter of emotions flowers over his face: uncertainty, pride, fear, triumph. What else?

He agreed to see me here. I don't have control over my flight schedule, I can't always come to LA. Whenever he can he joins me, and I show him places he's never seen. Tell him things he's never heard.

He holds out a big envelope. "No!" I say, "Tell me. Describe it to me. I want to see what happened through your eyes." He hesitates, but I know it will all come out. It will pour out of him. It has been an incredible experience and he can't keep it to himself.

We start walking along the beach line. I should keep on moving or else the jet lag will get to me. It's late in the afternoon, here on the west coast. It's a little past midnight French time.

After I had phoned him to let him know my flight schedule for next month, and we realized we could soon see each other again, he had gathered all his courage and had gone off to his brother's home.

He had crept around like a thief, fearing his timing hadn't been right. But the obstacle he had met was not the one expected. Oh, I would have loved to see those hounds of hell standing guard over the most precious being in their life. Thick grayish white fur against naked skin. I wonder how they would react to me. How close would they let me come before their instinct would tell them to launch themselves at my throat?

"My bro is such an asshole in the morning," he says. And I laugh. He has no idea the pains I have taken to hide my own bad temper those few mornings we have been able to share yet. If Jared was anything like me, popping the question to him like Shannon has done, should have been rewarded with a blunt "No", and that would have been it. But his instinct must have guided Shannon, gently persuading his kid brother. Finding the right words. "I can't help it, Jared. It's important to me..."

I can trust Shannon to get what he wants. I can always trust my Shannon. He's fascinating and I couldn't take my eyes off of him the first time I saw him. I had recognized him immediately (pushing away a little spark of guilt at the thought of the burnt CD that was in my bag, with the unreleased songs from his band I had snatched from the net just days before). And I had wanted to know who he was, not Shannon Leto brother of -, or Shannon Leto member of -.

When I'm away from home I'm in my little secret garden, it's like I hardly remember my "real life" waiting for me back home. But I had never met someone I wanted to share that garden with. So we started meeting each other again and again in a no man's land we created for ourselves, over and over again in different places across the world. And during those timeless moments we poured out ours souls to each other.

And he told me about that special bound he has with his brother.

I stand still to contemplate the far horizon. Red colored, gold edged clouds, above the rippling of the waves. Sunset, the most magical moment of the day, bathing us in a surreal light. I remember an other sunset, in that little park, stretching out on the big rock that separates the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema, in the distance the Pão de Açùcar bathing in the orange glow of the descending sun, only a few fishermen and some flirting couples to keep us company. I had wanted to make Rio something special for him, for us. So I had taken two of the bottles of Bordeaux and one of the cheese platters my colleagues had smuggled out of the plane on arriving. We had left them to their usual orgiastic activities and had sneaked off.

A Médoc Château la Clare 2001, Cru Bourgeois. I had seen how wonderfully this God-given nectar can loosen one's tongue and make disappear all inhibitions. Shannon had been a little shy, a little overwhelmed at this unusual confrontation with French refinement. But not for long. Amused I had seen the heated glow rising in his eyes and had felt his excitement flow over to me when he had asked me if I wanted to pose for him. Pose, how? "As nature has put you into this life." It had made me laugh. "I'm a photographer's worst nightmare." "I'll find a way to make the deepest of your emotions spread out over your face." I had grinned, a perverse little grin. "Like you did once with that kid brother of yours?"

(Intense bleu eyes in a hauntingly beautiful face. A passionate look sending shivers down my spine.)

The look in Shannon's brown eyes had cut my breath short. I had felt dizzy. Had I drunk too much of that gorgeous Médoc? Had Shannon drunk enough? I had wanted the whole story. "Tell me how you made him give that to you. Tell me. Shannon ... please."

\---

"He was vulnerable. Struggling with the sudden fame. People wanting things from him, demanding, pulling, tearing his soul apart. And at the same time he was worried about me. That I would be left behind. Or rather that he would have to go ahead alone."

"So he hoped that by posing for me, I would get my break through. A friend had lent us his studio. And all the time we needed, he had said, the whole night, if necessary."

"It was exciting! By then Jared had already been through a lot of photo shoots. He had picked up the necessary skills to give me anything I asked of him. This had nothing to do anymore with the snap shots I took of him when we were both kids. Whatever emotion he wanted to show, slipped over his face effortless."

"But behind every look I sensed a deep melancholy, and a growing sadness. And in the end I could feel the tears well up in his eyes even before they were flowing over his cheeks. My heart broke. I dropped the camera and put my arms around him. "I'm sorry," he cried. I tried to soothe him. I held him and pulled him to me. I gently caressed his back and kissed away his tears. It is how I've always comforted him, since we were kids. The physical closeness makes him melt in my embrace. Maybe even more then the reassurances I will softly whisper in his ear."

"I renewed the promises I've been making him since ..., since forever. I'll always be there for him. I'll take the weight from his shoulders and carry it for him. I'll be everything for him. I love him."

\---

"Jared seemed to glow and become alive again in my arms. Softly he pulled himself off of me and whispered: "Take your camera." The look in his eyes made me hesitate. I shouldn't. No one else should ever see this ... "Go on," he urged me. And I complied. He was still sitting on the floor, on his knees. He started unbuttoning his shirt. I lowered the camera but he threw me an intense look and I daren't disobey. Once his shirt completely open he simply dropped his hands on his thighs. He let the look in his eyes shift to a pure childlike innocence. He looked more naked then if he had taken it all off."

"I got closer to him to have some close-ups of his eyes. But as I approached him he laid back. He sighed deeply and then his hands began to wander. Over his chest, brushing feathery lightly his nipples, continuing slowly further down, over his stomach, which seemed to clench under his own touch."

"My hands started to shake, but he sent me a warning glance and I continued shooting, in a slow rhythm, savoring the moment every time I pushed on the trigger. Everything around me seemed to move in slow motion, as slow as Jared's hands that were now caressing the insides of his jeans covered thighs. He closed his eyes and moved his head backwards, arching his back."

"Loosing contact with those mesmerizing eyes should have woken me up. Instead I slipped further in, in a state of excitement as I had never felt in my life. A groan escaped my lips as his hands moved up again and unzipping his fly he slipped his hands inside his jeans."

"His eyes flew open in surprise, because I had dropped the camera. There is just so much I can take. I hovered over him and suddenly his arms were around me and he kissed me, deeply, devouringly, clinging to me as if his life depended on it. Which it did, perhaps."

"It was not our first kiss. But it was the first time he was giving it to me unconditionally, surrendering completely. I took all that was given. And more. I had lowered him to the ground again, and he had wrapped both his legs around my waist, torturing my hardening cock. I growled and pulled myself free, pushing him down and holding him still long enough to be able to roughly tear off his jeans."

"He lifted himself up again and savagely attacked my mouth. But I flung him down and undressed as quickly as I could. He looked at me as a trapped wild animal. I took both of his wrists and pushed his body down under mine. The tension was becoming unbearable for me, but I wanted to calm him down or we were going to hurt each other. I took over his mouth and let my tongue slip in and out in a soothing rhythm. As I felt him relax I let go of his wrists. He slipped his arms behind my neck as I pulled his legs back around me. When I entered him he groaned in my mouth. I broke the kiss and we both panted, trying to regain our breath."

"I know he was hurting and I wanted him to get past that and start finding pleasure from our joining. So I began to move slowly inside of him, but he just didn't let me. He thrust up to me, hungrily, desperately, and all too soon we screamed out, together, as all raison left us, and infinity exploded around us."

\--

I would have done anything for him at that moment. Whatever he asked. My heart had been beating like a Japanese taiko drum in a huge empty temple. But Shannon had been lost in his memories, not realizing, and the moment had slipped away. I had gotten a grip on myself again and had looked triumphantly at the 2 now empty bottles of Médoc. My imagination had been racing at the speed of light.

So I had challenged him. Teasing him sweetly, whispering promises, kissing him, smiling in his mouth.

And it had been easy. Because it was what he had wanted as well, more then anything else.

 

The fatigue is sweeping over me. We climb up into the dunes and I lay down in the sand spreading my hair out. It feels wonderful when I can let it just hang lose. So often it's tied up in a tight bun or tress. "So he came with you to your house. He knows you, like the flip side of your soul. He must have known."

Shannon shrugs. He looks disturbed, guilty. "How did you break through that wall he has built between the two of you?" I can bite off my tongue, the moment I say it. Shannon's look goes dark.

It had been just as it was all those years ago. Jared's hurt and melancholy making him vulnerable. Ah, la petite blondasse. The unreliable element I had feared, had become an unexpected ally.

Jared had put up a fight, a last attempt to hold up an already crumbling wall. But they could have seriously hurt each other. I shiver as Shannon tells me the violence he had had to inflict on Jared to get him to listen. But he had managed and had once again embalmed his brother in the safety net of their childhood promises.

\--

Feeling reassured again by Shannon's never faltering devotion Jared had regained enough lucidity to ask his brother the real raisons behind his strange demand. And Shannon had confessed. So now Jared knows about me.

But does he know me? Does he realize?

I flinch as Shannon tells me how much he has revealed to Jared about that night in Rio. I fear he may have told him too much.

He had asked his brother if I loved him. Would I allow me to ask myself that question? Does it matter? Who does Shannon love? Our moments together are magical. But they are just stolen moments in a secret garden. My real life waits back home for me. And where is Shannon's real life?

But I know that the fatal attraction will bring us back together. Drawn by the desire for each other. And the desire to continue this game we have started. He will give me what I want. And what I want is to be able to have a glimpse at that passionate complicity they share.

He'll have to think it over, my clever Shannon. He'll have to find a way to let me be present, without actually being there with them. I shouldn't be there. I should stay away from Jared. I could hurt him. He would hurt me back. Even if I know deep inside of me he is complicit in this game.

So maybe Shannon will have to find someone to help us out. Can he find someone they - we - can trust? I don't know what I want: more pictures, a video? Let them figure it out.

I stretch my body, becoming stiff with fatigue, and look up to my lover and accomplice. "I don't need to see those pictures," I tell him, "I know exactly what he looks like." "Take them anyway," he says, "Jared wants you to." So I accept them.

We leave the now deserted beach and take the last cable car back to our hotel. I know Shannon has brought his camera with him. Maybe I'll let him take some pictures of me. In uniform, perhaps. Or without ...


	2. Blood Is Thicker 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shannon in blissful happiness, for now.

Title: Blood is thicker 02  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared Leto  
Pairing: Shannon/the stewardess, Shannon/Jared   
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: slash, het slash  
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And it's not going to make me rich.  
Beta: Kitty

 

*************************************

 

San Francisco

Shannon recharged his camera as quickly as he could. He heard a fresh laughter bubbling up from behind his back and turned around just in time to see her drop the pants of her dark blue suit and reveal a pair of long legs dressed in white stockings. And a white garter belt. Did she always wear those under her uniform? He would never be able to be on a flight with her again without thinking about that white lingerie.

They were back in her hotel room. And even if it was late and she couldn't remember the last time she had slept in a bed, she had wanted to do that photo shoot she had promised him. The light wasn't good but the room was spacey enough. Of course she wasn't a professional model. But what she lacked in experience she made up for in enthusiasm. And it worked. She was laughing her heart out. He was having the time of his life. And it was seriously turning him on.

She turned round and looked over her shoulder with a provocative look. The bleu vest slipped off that shoulder and she was naked underneath it. Smiling she threw back her head. He was nearly out of film again and he honestly didn't care because he wouldn't be able to hold his hands off of her much longer. "Wait," she said, "Just one more." She turned again. The smile dropped of her face and Shannon's heart skipped a beat. She nailed it there! It was perfect. "That one is for your brother ..."

She started laughing again when he threw himself on top of her. He didn't know where she found the energy but the room seemed too small for their energetic love making. He liked what the jet lag did to her!

They spent the next day together. They went to see the Golden Gate Bridge. They hung out at Pier 39 and went to see the seal colony. They held hands and Shannon felt his heart beat in sensual joy.

\------------------------

Los Angeles

When Shannon entered his brother's house Lucifer and Judas came up to say hello in their typically excited way. Jared had to be home then, since he hadn't locked the dogs outside. He went into the backyard and saw his brother sprawled out on his stomach on a big towel, his face turned away from the door. He was bathing in the afternoon's sun like a lazy lizard. He was wearing nothing more than shorts and the Californian sun was caressing his skin. Shannon's expert eyes noticed how relaxed his back muscles were and he let out a content sigh.

He stood there staring for a few moments, trying to analyze the strange maelstrom of emotions that overtook him. It was weird. In San Francisco he had been utterly satisfied. With the place he was in, with the person he was with, with his life in general. He had left all that to come here. And he still felt the same way. He had slipped from one universe to another, from the presence of one person to another, from one state of happiness to another.

Could he push on the still button to freeze this moment in time?

Jared didn't move when Shannon knelt down beside him. Of course the dogs had told him that there had been someone at the front door. Shannon placed both of his hands on his brother's shoulders and then slipped them down towards his hips. Jared turned around and threw both his arms around his brother's neck, pulling him down in a fierce embrace. Shannon liked to be welcomed home like that. He lowered his whole body on top of Jared and simply enjoyed his brother's body warmth.

When he pulled back to look into Jared's smiling eyes, his brother whispered "I missed you." "I was only gone for 4 days." "4 long days." "Yeah, so how do you think I feel when you go away for weeks on some film shoot?" He tried to sound playful. Jared ignored his pitiful attempt.

"How was Frisco?" "Nice." "And that little French fry of yours?" Shannon raised his eyebrows. "Did you finally get her out off that uniform?" "Yeah, I did, kind of anyway." "Kind of? That's not good enough." Jared seemed to be in a mood for teasing. "Hey, I got some very steamy pictures of her." "How steamy?" "Well, my dick could tell you all about it." Jared burst out in laughter.

"You've got them with you?" "What?" "The pictures, you jerk." "No, they're at home. I've got one of them in my bag though." "Well go and get it then."

Shannon wasn't sure he should show that picture, even if she had said it was in fact for Jared. Maybe because she had said it.

Jared looked at the picture intensely. Not surprisingly. She was stunning on that one. When Jared finally handed it back to his brother, he asked, "So what does she want next?"

"I need a beer. You want one?" Shannon escaped to the kitchen. He felt uneasy all of a sudden. Without turning around he knew Jared had followed him inside. His brother pressed up against his back, embracing him from behind. "Well?" Okay, so Jared wasn't going to give it a rest. "Nothing. She doesn't want anything. She didn't ask for anything. We just didn't talk about it." "But she still owes you a photo shoot in her naked butt." "I'm telling you it didn't come up." "Right."

Jared's hands were moving down. Slowly. Teasingly slow. Unbearably slow. Over his stomach. Further down … Shannon felt like he lost his grip on reality and time.

They were interrupted by loud barking and playful bouncing. Shannon's head flew up. "It's the guys, they wanted to come over to hang out together tonight," Jared said lazily, without moving. Shannon turned around, and caught his brother's wrists. Bringing his face closer he said in a low voice: "Let's hang out then."

Neither of them moved, while the turmoil at the front door grew louder. Finally Jared took an imperceptibly little step back. Shannon released his wrists and went to the front door to welcome Matt and Tomo and safe them from the hounds of hell gone berserk with joy.

 

It was hours later. In fact it was already early in the morning. They had been fooling around, drinking and joking. Their usual kind of get-to-gethers. Matt and Tomo were slumbering on the couch downstairs. Or had they passed out? Shannon had managed to crawl upstairs and had collapsed on Jared's bed. At some time Jared had joined him, he had no idea how long ago.

They had been sleeping for a while, Shannon on his back, Jared on top of him, his head on his brother's stomach. But something had woken Shannon up and he sensed his conscience slowly floating upwards to the surface. He felt his brother stir and he wondered what time it was. But maybe it didn't matter. Jared had put a hand under his shirt and on his stomach, moving in slow circles. Shannon sighed.

Jared moved himself up on his elbows. He took the zipper of his brother's jeans between his teeth and pulled at it, looking up into Shannon's eyes. Shannon frowned: "You're joking." "Why?" "The guys are just downstairs ..." "God, you could set off an atomic bomb next to them. They wouldn't move a toe." "You sure of that?" "Absolutely." Jared had managed to lower the zipper completely, without using his hands. "Besides, they wouldn't be that much surprised ..." "Jared ..." "Shut up. Let your dick do the talking for you."

Shannon grinned. Jared could be shameless when he was in a playful mood and Shannon had missed that. His cock reacted to the fond memories as well, its head peeping out above the edge of his boxers. Jared got up with a snort and pulled off his brother's jeans and boxers in the same movement. All resistance was useless and Shannon knew he had lost the argument. And he was glad he had when he felt Jared's mouth slid over his eagerly waiting cock.

Nobody knew how to do this better then his kid brother. Nobody knew him better. His body. His soul.

Shannon groaned and softly grabbed his brother's silk hair. He gently accompanied the up and down movement of Jared's head. Breathing harder and harder he opened his legs further, while Jared teased the head of his pulsing cock with his tongue.

He wanted this to go on for ever and growled when Jared suddenly retreated. But soon his cock was being surrounded again by a torturing heat. Then he felt a slick finger entering him. He put his arm over his mouth to smother a sudden cry. "Fuck, Jared!" he hissed. He felt his cock pulse with the movement of Jared's chuckle. The little devil was too good at this. "Stop it, damn it, I'm gonna come!"

Jared raised his head, looking very innocent. Shannon put both his hands in his brother's hair and roughly pulled him upwards. "Aah! You shithead." "Get down on me, now!" Enough with the teasing.

Jared came up completely and straddled his brother's hips. He was naked. And beautiful. Shannon cursed the scarce moonlight bathing the room in an almost imperceptible glow. He wished he could turn on the little night lamp. He could barely make out his brother's silhouette. But Jared's eyes bore into his, glowing in the dark. Slowly he lowered himself on Shannon's cock arching his head back. Shannon gripped his hips and made a powerful thrust, burying himself completely in Jared's tight hotness. Jared gasped.

Jared started moving in a slow rhythm, putting both hands on Shannon's chest for leverage. His hair fell forward over his now closed eyes. Shannon let himself be swept away by the sensual dance, his hands caressing the insides of Jared's thighs. But then he took Jared's hands and made him lean back until his brother's hands were on his knees. The different angle brought new sensations and Shannon urged his brother to move up the speed. Jared responded and Shannon rewarded him by curling his fingers around Jared's cock and stroking him in rhythm with the thrusting of his hips.

Shannon knew exactly were he wanted Jared and how to get him there. Out of profundity his body recollected memories. Jared's moaning turned into a scream and Shannon felt the familiar pulsing in his hand.

Jared fell down on him, but Shannon pushed himself up quickly, rolling his brother down on the bed. The movement had broken their joining and Shannon positioned himself between Jared's legs. Then he stopped moving and listened if Jared's war cry had woken up the sleeping.

He felt his brother impatiently writhing underneath him and since no one seemed to threaten their secret closeness, he took Jared's hips and entered him, as deep as he could. Jared's soft laughter soon drove all sanity out of him. A few powerful thrusts and he dove down on his brother's body, burying his mouth in Jared's neck to smother his loud growl while his entire being exploded in ecstasy.

 

When he came back to reality, Jared was stroking his hair. He could feel his brother smile. "I know how we can get her that far." "… what …?" he murmured "How we can get her completely out of that uniform. I know what she wants. And I know how we can give it to her."

Shannon's eyes flew open and he stared in the darkness, wondering why he was feeling cold all of a sudden.

\----------------------

Paris

Shannon studied the picture again. A taxi was driving him away from the airport of Charles-de-Gaulle over the "péripherique", the Paris ring road. Luckily there wasn't too much traffic on the French capital's highways at this hour of the day. He was tired, after another long haul flight in barely 2 weeks time. He wondered how his luscious mistress could stand this exhausting life. How she was even thriving on it.

He looked at the picture one more time. She stared back at him, her feet firmly put on the ground, her long legs slightly opened. She was dressed in nothing more than the long dark blue vest of her uniform suit which she had slipped off of her shoulders. She had wrapped her arms in front of her breasts. But underneath her arms the vest opened up and didn't cover her nakedness.

He wished he could figure out the look on her face. And he wished he knew why it had inspired his kid brother so much. Then maybe he would understand what he was doing here.

He knew she lived just outside of Paris, but he didn't know where exactly. It didn't matter. The taxi got off the "périférique" and passed Versailles. The landscape changed. They were leaving the frenzy of the suburbs. He read the paper with the instructions his brother had given him. The taxi-driver seemed to understand, but Shannon wasn't sure of it. He had no idea what he was going to do if the man asked him something in French.

The taxi left the Route National and approached a forest. The name on the sign at the entrance of a village matched Jared's notes. So far so good. He got out of the taxi in front of some kind of big house, how did they call that, a manor? The address seemed to fit. He paid the taxi-driver, who disappeared. Great, what if this wasn't the right place?

Nervously he rang the bell. The door opened and a ruffled up face peeked from behind it. "Shannon, what's up?" Oliver Stone said, surprised.


	3. Blood Is Thicker 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PWP. Shannon and his model during their photo session and beyond. San Francisco.

Title: Blood is thicker 03  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared Leto  
Rating: NC-17  
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And it's not going to make me rich.  
Warnings: Explicit het slash. And nothing else. Pass thy way if it is not your cup of tea. I'm not adding any new story elements in this chapter. You don't have to read it to stay in sync with the series.  
Pairing: Shannon/the stewardess.  
Beta: none.   
Music: Linkin Park and 'Under the Gun' from The Sisters of Mercy.

*************************************

_Shannon recharged his camera as quickly as he could. He heard a fresh laughter bubbling up from behind his back and turned around just in time to see her drop the pants of her dark blue suit and reveal a pair of long legs dressed in white stockings. And a white garter belt. Did she always wear those under her uniform? He would never be able to be on a flight with her again without thinking about that white lingerie._

_They were back in her hotel room. And even if it was late and she couldn't remember the last time she had slept in a bed, she had wanted to do that photo shoot she had promised him. The light wasn't good but the room was spacey enough. Of course she wasn't a professional model. But what she lacked in experience she made up for in enthusiasm. And it worked. She was laughing her heart out. He was having the time of his life. And it was seriously turning him on._

_She turned round and looked over her shoulder with a provocative look. The bleu vest slipped off that shoulder and she was naked underneath it. Smiling she threw back her head. He was nearly out of film again and he honestly didn't care because he wouldn't be able to hold his hands off of her much longer. "Wait," she said, "Just one more." She turned again. The smile dropped of her face and Shannon's heart skipped a beat. She nailed it there! It was perfect. "That one is for your brother ..."_

It lasted only a fraction of a moment. He was glad he had been able to capture it. A little chill went through her body and she put the vest back on her shoulders. With her best "haughty French stewardess look" she told him: "Now drop your weapon, soldier."

"We have unfinished business," he replied.

"Later …"

"Now is perfect." He didn't want to push her though. He sensed a little note of shyness behind the fake arrogance.

"Later," she whispered again.

He put down his camera, without breaking eye contact with her.

She started laughing again when he threw himself on top of her, pushing her down on to the bed. But much to his surprise she tackled him and disappeared from under him. She moved like quicksilver! Slightly confused he turned his head to find her. She stood against the wall opposite the bed, her hands behind her back, watching him. He turned around completely and heaved himself up on his elbows. Fascinated he watched the little smile on her lips.

"Get rid of that uniform and come here," he whispered huskily.

The dark blue vest slipped on the floor, slowly. She was breathtaking in that white lingerie ensemble.

"Will you get rid of yours?" she asked.

He would have jumped up to comply but suddenly she shouted: "Wait!" He stopped in surprise.

"You're too hasty. Slow …" She had dropped her voice to a whisper again. "Lie back down."

He obeyed, curious about where she wanted to take this.

"Take off your T-shirt. No, don't get up."

He sank down on to the bed again and arched his back to pull the black tight T-shirt over his head. He would have happily removed his jeans as well, but he wanted to indulge her in her little game. His patience was rewarded with an appreciative little laughter.

"Do you have any underwear?" she asked.

Let me show you! No, come here and find out! Never when I'm around you! … The phrases were tumbling around in his head but he bit his lower lip to contain his impatience. He searched for a way to catch her off guard.

"Would you like it if I didn't?"

She smiled.

"I think _you_ will appreciate not having them for what I'm going to ask you."

Damn, she had just pulled the table from under him! He swallowed.

"Will you do what I tell you to?" she asked, with a childishly innocent voice.

"Will I get something in return?" he wanted to know.

"Only if you live up to my expectations," she teased him.

"Did I ever let you down?" he reacted, trying to look insulted, but barely managing to retain his laughter.

"No, you are magnificent," she purred, "Now lie back."

"I can't see you anymore."

"I don't want you to look at me. I want you to feel. I want you to concentrate on the touch of your own hands on your body. Touch yourself for me, Shannon." Her voice sounded hypnotizing.

He put his hands on his stomach, hesitatingly. It seemed a good way to start. But he was uncertain about how to continue. He wasn't used to this.

"I love how hard the muscles of your stomach feel," her voice broke through his musings. He felt his stomach contract in response. He watched up to the ceiling. Maybe this would be easier if he closed his eyes. He saw her face behind his eyelids and let his hands wander towards his nipples.

"Are your fingers cold?" she asked and yes, suddenly it seemed as if his nipples were being touched by little ice cubes. They became hard and erect instantly. It felt weird under his fingertips.

"Can you feel my breath on them?" she teased. "Do they feel warmer now?" Damn, they only became painfully harder. She chuckled.

The only direction in which his hands could move from here on was downwards, he thought. But she didn't agree.

"Move them upwards, along your neck, your chin, your cheeks, all the way up, to your hair."

He obeyed and then ruffled up his hair, with a nervous grin. Aw, he could have known she was going to punish him for it.

"Put two fingers in your mouth."

"You're kidding me!"

"Suck on them!" She _wasn't_ kidding. He complied and was surprised that it felt nice. His mind drifted off, he wasn't sure what he was thinking of, or whom, although he never forgot her presence, wondering even why she let him continue this long.

"Shannon?"

"Huh …?" He was alarmed by the little moan that had escaped from his lips.

"You can take your fingers out of your mouth now. And you can bring your hands down, but don't stop there. Go further down. Bring your legs up a little, and open them. Caress the inside of your thighs."

He must be crazy for letting her do this to him. But he was doing it anyway, even if it was becoming increasingly torturous. The pressure of his cock trapped inside his jeans was killing him. How much longer was she going to make him suffer? The minutes slipped by and she remained silent. He still had his eyes tightly shut, but maybe he had been deceiving himself. The images behind his closed eyelids were becoming a source of torture as well.

He seemed to be losing control over his own hands. One hand cupped his balls through the thick fabric of the jeans, while the other one slipped underneath the waistband. It only made things worse. There just wasn't room enough inside the tight pants but he dare not open the zipper. He moaned in frustration.

Suddenly he felt his zipper being opened. His jutting erection sprang out and thankfully he closed his hand around it. He opened his eyes and stared right into her green ones. She had moved onto the bed and in between his legs. She remained silent so he continued to stroke his cock. Her look shifted between his face and his loins.

After a while she put her hands on his hips and helped him to get out of his jeans. Putting his legs back into the same position as before, she brought her face to the inside of one of his thighs and started licking the sensitive skin. Her hand caressed the other thigh. As her face approached his groin he removed his hand, hoping she would take over. And she did, closing her mouth over his cock. He stretched his arms above his head and simply enjoyed his reward.

It felt as if her hands were all over his lower body at the same time, caressing, discovering little sensitive spots he didn't know he had, while her mouth continued to worship his shaft. At one time he thought he felt her finger brush over his opening, but he wasn't sure of it. The sensation got lost amidst all the others.

"Come here," he finally whispered, as gently as he could. She released his cock, placing a last kiss on the top of it, and moved forward on hands and knees. When she was leaning over him he let his hands travel down over her back, passing the garter belt and enjoying the fabric of her stockings. She was looking in his eyes and he knew she was reading to lower herself on him. He surprised her by putting his hands on her hips and quickly pushing her over and on to her back on the bed.

She grabbed his head with both her hands and accompanied his movement as he crushed his lips onto hers, while entering her in one powerful movement. She growled inside his mouth and locked her legs around his waist.

They moved together, changing rhythm, varying positions, kissing fervently. Their heated dance lasted for a long time, until he put his fingers on her little pleasure nub, forcing her into a violent orgasm. Delighting in the sight of the ecstatic expression on her face he joined her.

\---------------------

_They spent the next day together. They went to see the Golden Gate Bridge. They hung out at Pier 39 and went to see the seal colony. They held hands and Shannon felt his heart beat in sensual joy._


	4. Blood Is Thicker 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared sent Shannon on a secret mission to Paris, where he hooks up with Oliver Stone. Shannon's POV.

Title: Blood is thicker 4. A Glass Palace.  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared Leto  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Shannon/Jared  
Warnings: Incest slash. Voyeurism.  
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And it's not going to make me rich.  
Beta: Kitty  
Music: Lots of Linkin Park. And U2. They filmed their clip for 'Beautiful Day' at Roissy and they managed to capture some of the atmosphere reigning in "The Glass Palace".

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

My heart sinks in my shoes when Oliver lets me in. This is madness. I should never have come here. I look around and this huge house looks so strange to me. How French has Oliver become? I know his mother was born here. And Oliver applied for the French nationality, hoping it would bring in some euros for the financing of Alexander. And it did. He speaks French. My doll has seen him on television and she says he's quite good at it. He's got "flair" as she says, very "un-American".

Jared is a lot more down to earth about his former employer.

Oliver comes back with a beer and it's a Belgian one. The best in the whole world!

"Sit down, sit down."

He waves his hand. French etiquette? Or is he just being as silly as he looks?

"Tell me, what brings you to these parts of the globe?"

Is he going to keep that ridiculous attitude up for much longer? Do I have to listen to that? I clear my throat but the words aren't coming. I rub my temples. How do I bring this to him? I can't look in his eyes or I'll burst out in a nervous laughter. I try to start again. "Jared ..." I cough. "Jared says you would do something for him if he asked."

"He OWES me. BIG TIME," Jared has told me. "Just tell him that: it's pay back time."

Oliver's face has gone blank. Luckily I haven't used Jared's exacts words. I think he would have had a fit. Now it's Oliver's turn to be searching for words.

"And euh ... what does he want exactly?"

Jared was right. I won the war without a single battle.

\--------------

I don't think he could have gotten any paler. In fact he is turning green. And I'm feeling a bit sick myself.

"And when do we have to do that?"

"As soon as possible. In fact tomorrow would be as good a time as any."

I'm sure his agenda is bursting over with appointments, according to the look on his face. But he simply says: "How about next week?"

"Nope. Jared has to be in Jacksonville in a couple of days. He accepted a little film role before we start touring."

"I see ... okay then: tomorrow. You want to stay here for the night?"

He's a funny bird, that Oliver. I should take advantage of that strange mood he's in before he changes his mind.

"Yeah, thanks. Ehmmm, I'm gonna phone Jared now."

"Okay, the phone is over there."

I nod slowly: "Thanks."

\-----------------

"Jared, he came through."

"I told you so."

"Get in a plane."

\---------------------------

The two planes line up on the double runway of Roissy-Charles the Gaulle, the Paris airport. Jared's flight has a delay so I went up to the departures level of terminal C to enjoy the view. I notice I'm holding my breath as I'm waiting for the Air Traffic Control to give the two planes a "ready for take-off". It's a beautiful morning and the sun is shining relentlessly on the small Airbus A318, from some airline company I never heard of, and the impressive Boeing B777-300 with the French national colors.

The two planes start moving simultaneously, rapidly gaining speed. After a few seconds the little Airbus bounces up into the sky, jumping like a grasshopper, and I feel my stomach contracting. I quickly look away to the Boeing, afraid I'd actually get airsick just from watching. The "triple 7" finally reaches rotation speed and spreads its wings like an eagle. I think I could understand the people who spend their lives observing planes. I've done a lot of it lately. It makes you feel ecstatic but humble at the same time.

I take a look at the huge digital clock above the nearby check-in counters. A ground staff agent is leaning in between two counters, her elbows on top of them. She is young and she is all an airline company could hope for in its front-line personnel: blond hair bound in a tight bun, a perfectly made-up face with fine features, and a body to dream of in a tightly fitting dark blue uniform. It is the summer suit in which my French girl somehow manages to look like a luxury call-girl when she wants to.

Maybe she read my thoughts on my face because the blond goddess is now staring right back at me. She is using the Arrogance Look on me and I feel trapped like a rabbit. I've only seen that look once on my love's face and I had felt lucky it hadn't been directed at me. How to make an American feel like a clumsy boar …

An eternity passes before the Ice Queen's attention is drawn by the noise coming from her storno. She talks back into the walkie-talkie and starts walking off, not dignifying me with another look.

I take another look at the clock and start running at top speed towards the arrivals level.

\-------------------------------------

I fall upon Jared as if I hadn't seen him in a decade instead of a couple of days. He responds warmly to my tight embrace but quickly withdraws. I recognize the glint in my brother's eyes. According to his body it is around midnight LA time. But his mind is being fooled by the blinding sun penetrating the glass palace that is this huge airport. He puts on his sun glasses.

Oliver has loaned me his car. Trying to find my way back to the ring road gives me something to concentrate on. I'm waiting for Jared to fall asleep, but I feel his gaze on me. Stubbornly I keep looking in front of me, until he averts his eyes and licks his lips, visibly irritated.

"Got any news from your dam'zelle?" he asks casually.

"Drop it," I growl.

"Did Oliver say something that made you back off? Or is it just cold feet?"

"I don't need Oliver to realize what a fucked up idea that was."

Jared starts biting one of his nails. I haven't seen him do that in ages.

"I just thought I'd help you …"

"I know," I interrupt him, "but it's just too crazy. I never meant it to go this far. And I know she didn't either."

"Maybe she …"

"For Christ's sake, can you take your nose out of my relationship?" I burst out, immediately regretting it. He turns his head away as if I had slapped him. I want to put out my hand and touch his cheek that is turning red, but I can't take my eyes off of the heavy traffic on the ring road.

"J, I'm sorry. Just forget about it, okay? Tomorrow we'll go and see the folks of Virgin France, check out some places where we could have a gig with the band. They told me about some nice clubs. Hey, this is Paris! Lots of sightseeing to do, remember?"

"Yeah, alright, okay."

He's putting up a brave face, but I know he's sulking. I see him lay back his head. The heat inside the car does the rest: he dozes off.

\---------------------------

I park the car in front of Oliver's house. He seems to have been waiting there for us, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jared opens his eyes when I turn off the engine. The jet lag did a thorough job on him. I'd better get him in to a bed quickly. He stumbles out of the car and all but walks past Oliver without even noticing him.

"Hi, Jared," Oliver says, visibly not at ease. I think he's not quite sure how to approach Jared, especially in light of what he learned yesterday …

Jared looks at him as if he's seeing him for the first time in his life. "Oh … hi." Then he walks straight by his former employer and enters the house. Jesus! Maybe he's just following his instinct to find the nearest available bed.

Oliver looks at me and raises his thick eyebrows.

"I'd better not let him out of my sight," I mumble and pass him by to follow Jared inside the house.

Oliver coughs: "Mmm, Shannon, euh …"

"It's off." I don't want to dwell on it. "You can stop worrying about it. I talked him out off it."

I wish I could ignore Oliver's half relieved – half incredulous chuckle. I sigh and turn towards him.

"What's wrong with that brother of yours?" Oliver seems really concerned. And he probably is. You can't go through an intense three month long experience like filming 'Alexander' without getting close to the people you work with. I had witnessed it myself.

"He broke up with his girl a few weeks ago. And he probably hasn't gotten over the mental psycho trip from his last film yet. You know it always takes some time before he snaps out of it." It sounds weak, and I know it. I give it another try, even if I don't feel like getting into the subject too deep with this man: "I think he built some kind of defensive walls around him and he's trying out how strong they are. He wants to know if he's … invulnerable or something."

Oliver seems to see right through me. "Maybe he's just jealous?"

That thought is more disturbing than all the theories I have come up with myself.

"Crap!" I growl and leave him to it.

 

Jared has found a bed: mine. Maybe he did follow his nose. He has crashed down on it, sprawled out on his stomach, his face turned sideways. There's a frown between his eyes. I get down on the bed beside him and put my thumb on the wrinkle, massaging it gently. I don't want to wake him up.

\----------------------

When I wake up it's late in the afternoon. Jared is still sleeping. I sneak out of the bed and head for Oliver's study. He said I could use his computer if I want.

When I connect to the internet a complete bloody page full of French text pops up in front of my eyes. I'm getting allergic to French. I can't stand not understanding a word of it. I go to my own web server to check my mails: a huge list. But not the name I was looking for …

I stare at the list for at least a whole five minutes. Maybe my eyes are just deceiving me. They're not. It's been a week …

I go to her web server – more bloody French! – and log in under her email and password. Jared has cracked it a while ago, showing it to me with a triumphant smirk on his face. I had scolded him for it.

She has some mails. One of them is from her husband. Why wouldn't I click on it? I'm not going to understand a damn word of it anyway. It's a short mail. If he's complaining again for her not having tidied up the kitchen before leaving off on her flight, he can't be very mad, because it says "bisous" at the end. With two or three other ones that word covers my complete knowledge of that annoying language.

"Bisous, bisous, bisous!" Jared singsongs leaning over my shoulder and I turn to him, the word "murder" written all over my face. He backs off and drops the smirk off his face.

"Where is she?" he asks softly.

"Miami."

"There's been a complete black out in the whole of Florida for the past five days. You didn't know? No power supply, no computers."

"Bummer."

"Yeah," he agrees. I can feel he's scanning my face, but I have my eyes riveted on the screen of the computer.

"Did Oliver the Great show you his very own private little filming studio?" he finally asks. "You should see it; he's got some great material in there. Com'on." He leaves the study, not even bothering to check if I'm following him.

I stare a few more seconds at the little mail before hitting the "delete" button. I switch off the computer and go looking for Jared.

\------------------------------

It takes me some time to locate Oliver's filming studio. Jared has had time to get Oliver, who greets me with a resigned smile on his face. He's fidgeting with two cameras. They're small but they're obviously professional stuff. Jared says he sometimes holds casting sessions here.

Oliver directs the two cameras to the same spot in the studio. They will be filming the same scene from different angles. Despite the absurdity of the situation I'm fascinated by his technical know-how and I go over to take a look at what he's doing. The cameras are really nice birds. Lucky Oliver. I wish I could afford those. Well, at least we are going to do this in style.

My bubble of contentment bursts when Jared comes over to me. He takes my hand and leads me to the middle of the studio, exactly where the angle of view of the two cameras coincide. After all he is a pro at this.

Jared searches my face but there seems to be no doubt left in his mind that I'll go through with this. And I will, if I manage to make abstraction of those two cameras and Oliver still lingering around. If I just go on looking in Jared's eyes I'll get there.

Jared puts a hand to my lips. Then he leans in to me and I feel his lips brushing mine, softly. Everything just goes blank around me.

He puts his two hands on my stomach and moves them upwards until his palms are rubbing my nipples. My breath hitches and the faintest of smiles moves across his face. His hands move down again and crawl under my T-shirt. He pulls it up slowly. I put my arms up so he can remove it. He throws it away casually and puts his hands back on my stomach, lowering his gaze now. My stomach contracts under his itching fingers. I hush something, I don't know what, but I feel his lips against mine again, just a feathery caress. "Sshh ..."

His hands continue their descent until they're on the zipper of my jeans. He pulls it open, a bit roughly. Somehow it feels like I'm challenged and I can't possibly stay motionless like this for much longer. I bury my hands in his hair and pull his face towards mine. I start devouring his lips, my eyes boring into his. I feel his hand slip inside my jeans and caressing my cock, still trapped in my boxers.

After a while I pull his hand out of my pants, grab his hips and thrust our loins together, while I push my tongue deeper inside his mouth. He whimpers and I feel him starting to tremble a little. It feels good so I continue to rub him against me. He tries to escape from my grip and pull down my jeans, but I resist, just enjoying the momentary state of helplessness it puts him in.

"Shannon …" he finally pleads, panting inside my mouth.

"What?" I groan.

"Please …"

"Oh yes, again!" I command with a chuckle.

"Please," he hisses. I feel he's getting angry, so I release him and get rid of the rest of my clothes.

When I want to pull him back to me he suddenly turns around and presses his back against me, now facing the cameras. Shit, the fucking cameras. Oliver.

Jared leans against me, while he begins to undress himself. A T-shirt ends up not far from mine. He takes my two hands and puts them on his chest, pushing them down, over his stomach, placing them on his cock. He's aroused as well now. His eyes are half closed but he's facing one of the cameras. Had someone been behind it, he would have been on his knees now. From the corner of my eye I see Oliver moving, probably trying to avoid Jared nailing him with that demonic look in his eyes.

Jared takes a step forward and resolutely steps out of his jeans. He's not wearing anything underneath them. He's still hypnotizing the same camera, his hand caressing his erect cock. Fuck Oliver, fuck the cameras. I reach out for him and he takes my hand, suddenly kneeling down and pulling me down behind him.

I have no idea where he's taking us, but I don't care. My arms are around him and I can touch him where ever I want. He lets my hands wander all over him for a while. Then he takes over the lead again, placing my hands on the inside of his thighs, opening his legs further.

He leans against my chest and puts his head backwards on my shoulder, finally releasing the martyred camera from his torturing look. He pushes my hands towards his cock again. When I start caressing him he closes his eyes and sighs. God, I want him!

I put two fingers in my mouth, wet them and present them at his opening. "Wait," he pants and reaches blindly besides him, pulling a little bottle of lube out of the pocket of his jeans sprawled next to us. He got himself well prepared for this.

I snatch the bottle from his hand, open it and spread a good quantity on my hand. Then I push a finger inside of him and I hear him whimper softly. I start moving my finger inside him, reaching out around him to stroke his arousal. He is moaning now. I feed him a second finger and start searching for the pleasure point deep inside him. When I find it a violent shiver tears through his body. His hands are grabbing my wrists to urge me on. I know his body like a musical instrument and I know how to play it to perfection.

When I put in a third finger I can't prevent him from falling forwards on hands and knees while screaming. He's thrusting back violently against my fingers. I continue to stimulate him, but have moved my hand to my own cock now. I present it at his opening and push in. He manages to stay on his knees, despite the force I'm using, meeting every movement I make with my hips.

The ride goes on for what seems an eternity and even then it doesn't seem long enough for me. But in the end he falls on his stomach under the power of my thrusts. His nails desperately scratch the floor as he finds his release. I join in and violent waves of pleasure tear through my body. In the end I fall down on top of his still trembling body.

\---------------

Oliver has disappeared, who knows when. Who cares? I'm still inside Jared and I'm going to stay there. Forever.

I don't know how long we have been lying there when I hear the door opening. Oliver is coming in.

No, it's not Oliver. I try to see clear. Then my blood turns to ice. I hear Jared's surprised voice: "Colin ...?"


	6. Blood Is Thicker 06

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PWP, tattoo-games and imaginative use of a pair of drum sticks.

Title: Blood is ticker 6. Taiko Drumming  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared leto  
Pairing: Shannon/the stewardess  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: het slash  
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And it's not going to make me rich.  
Beta: none, sorry.  
A/N: Do you remember the allusion she made to Shannon's drum sticks (chapter 5)?  
Mood creation: 30 Seconds To Mars – Savior, From Yesterday (nothing much to do with the lyrics, I just got inspired by the melodies)

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Libreville (Gabon) – Leon M' Ba International Airport

 

A kind of tribal rhythm resounded throughout the airport. A primal heartbeat translated into acoustic waves by an archaic kind of drum. Curiously the beat was exactly in sync with the melody in his head. Shannon closed his eyes and slammed his drum sticks on an imaginary drum set in front of him. He grinned without opening his eyes: one nutcase of an American lost in a chaotic African airport. How long before they would carry him off and lock him away?

He opened his eyes when he felt a sweat breath blowing on his heated face and stared into a pair of soft-purple shaded green eyes and dark pink painted lips, curved slightly upward.

"There were cows walking on the landing strip," he said, one drum stick still in the air.

Her smile dropped and she nodded gravely.

"It was a joke," he added quickly, lowering his arm.

"I don't think so," she answered.

"It was," he insisted, "We were approaching the landing strip and the captain made a joke." Her sudden seriousness began to worry him.

"It wouldn't be the first time," she said while rising to her feet. Quickly he put his drum sticks in his back bag and trotted after her. Thoughts were tumbling through his head, some of them a bit disturbing.

"You know … if cows can just walk in how do they keep terrorists out?"

"What terrorists?"

"The ones who like to blow up Americans."

"What Americans?"

He looked around: dark faces, hordes of them. Suddenly he bumped into her. She had turned around and was looking at him with wide open eyes:

"Shannon, you didn't bring your American passport, did you?"

His jaw dropped. He found no words. Then the look on her face changed to resignation.

"Oh, that's right, you only have one. It'll have to do then."

She turned and nearly disappeared in the crowd before he found his wits back. He steadied up his pace to catch up with her, swearing under his breath: he would get back at her for this. They joined the rest of her crew members, waiting for them: a little island of dark blue elegance in a crowd of warm colored chaos.

"Y'avait encore des vaches sur le terrain d'atterrissage (1)," she greeted them.

"Ah la vache!!(2)" the chief purser grinned. A cloud of doubt descended on Shannon's face again, causing some sniggering. The co-pilot gave him an encouraging slap on his back. The small group started moving again, cutting the crowd like a heated knife through butter. Suddenly they were outside and a moist heat fell on them like a thick curtain. It was not an unpleasant feeling however. He looked around him, a bit startled.

"Uhm … were is euh police formalities and custom's declarations and stuff …?"

"What custom's declarations? You wanted to declare your drum sticks?" she asked him, looking dead serious.

His mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out.

"Bienvenue en Afrique! (3)" one of the handsome stewards shouted at him with a thick African accent.

Oh well. He shrugged and crawled into the hotel shuttle waiting for them. Crew members were draped on the seats in variable states of fatigue. It was 7 AM. The duration of their flight had been about 1/2 of the time it had taken him to come from LA, but it had been a night flight nonetheless. They hadn't seen a bed in 24 hours. He took out the "bribe", a pack of chocolates he had been instructed to bring, and received appreciative grins.

 

\------------

 

He liked the hotel room: lots of wood, little statues in the corners, tribal masques hanging on the wall, thick curtains filtering the light in to an orange glow. He slammed his back bag in a corner and jumped on the huge bed. He watched her enter the room and neatly deposit her bags next to the door. She walked through to the bathroom and checked behind the shower curtain. When she came back out he saw his chance and launched himself. He landed on top of her and she yelped.

"Wait!"

"I gave you 30 whole seconds to get out of that uniform."

His lips ended up in her nape because she had turned her head to look under the bed.

"There is no one in the room," he groaned, "besides you're safe with me."

"So safe …" he heard her whisper while wondering why the room was tumbling upside down. Then he landed on his back with a "thuhh!". Damn those long legs of hers! Things turned to his advantage however. Her tight fitting dark blue robe was hindering her so she pulled it further up on her hips and straddled him. God, it was about time. He sighed while tasting her lipstick with the tip of his tongue. His hands expertly removed her hairpins. A mass of blond locks fell on his face and out of that luscious darkness two lips found his. His franticly searching hands found a way out off the silk jungle but the distraction made him lose a battle on another level: his tongue was forced to retreat before a hostile attack. He surrendered but the invader wasn't keen on showing mercy. He moaned in a not very convincing protest.

"… mmm … boat …" she growled in his mouth.

Seasick, his stomach replied.

 

\--------------------------

 

Okay, it was worth the effort, he thought, while watching the shore from the little barge that had brought them there: a seemingly endless beach of white sand, a few small chalets around a larger wooden construction, dark green jungle looming up behind it all. Ekwata was a private beach on a peninsula exploited by a trio of ex-colleagues of hers, a favorite hide-out for the crew of her airline company.

 

The chalet proved to be as sturdy and rudimentary from the inside as it looked from the outside, but there was electricity and running water. Its main charm was the huge bed made out of bamboo with a gigantic mosquito net draped over it like a canopy. He quickly removed his clothes and crawled underneath it. She was lying stretched out, innocently naked, her eyes blissfully closed, on the threshold of oblivion.

"I can't sleep now," he whispered in her ear.

"Please, just a tiny little nap, please, please …" she whispered back, one finger absentmindedly brushing his lips. Her arm fell down again and he saw her drifting off. Damn jetlag.

He lay on his back listening to the rustling of the waves on the shore and the whispering of the wind in the surrounding palm trees. Closing his eyes he concentrated on his heartbeat. Soon, as always, the beat mingled with some rhythm coming out of the depth of his consciousness. The rhythm became more familiar and soon he found himself rehearsing a song.

His hands started pumping in the air as memories made adrenaline rush through his veins. He saw Jared's frustrated face again.

_"It doesn't sound right."_

_He felt eyes boring in his back, one pair discretely hiding behind a waterfall of dark locks, another pair, blue pools of worry, openly observing the fraternal dispute._

_"It_ feels _right!"_

He knew he could convince them to play the song the way it was meant to be. He'd show them, like this! Quickly he crawled from under the mosquito net to get his drum sticks. Lying back down on his back he went through the song, tormenting every particle of oxygen underneath the mosquito net with his little wooden instruments.

_Don't save me, don't save me,  
'cause I don't care!  
Don't save me, don't save me,  
'cause I don't care!_

 

He felt a stare. His drumsticks froze in the air. He clutched them in his fists and lowered them slowly before glancing to his left side. "Oops," he whispered, but she didn't seem to be angry. Maybe she had slept longer than he had realized. Her attention seemed to be drawn by the tattoo on his left shoulder. She stared at it for a while.

"What is it?"

"Whatever you want it to be."

Her fingertip followed the colorful pattern, hesitatingly.

"Egyptian eye, teardrops, flames, Bosch …" she murmured. "It's a snakeskin shield making you invincible, untouchable."

"Is that what you want it to be?"

"… terrible thought …" she murmured and delicately passed the tip of her tongue over the enigmatic design.

He shivered. Right then his left shoulder seemed to be the most sensitive part of his entire body. Her lips brushed over the deceivingly delicate skin but her eyes slid towards his left nipple. The little dark brown nub immediately responded to the illusionary touch and a little smile curved her lips.

"More …"

He had to clear his throat before he could answer: "More what …?"

"Tattoos?" she asked in a little girl's voice.

He hesitated for a moment and then turned over on his stomach. She hummed: "I'd show you were we are but it's not even on there. We've slipped off the edge of the earth."

He felt her hot breath on his back. "It's a globe", he groaned, "Just turn it."

She chuckled softly and he felt the tip of her tongue trace a circle over his back.

"I should know better than to listen to you," she complained, grinning. "From now on I'll do it my way."

It was an interesting promise, somewhat redundant, he thought, since she had it her way most of the time, but he wasn't complaining. He should try to keep up appearances though.

"We'll see how you manage. I'll keep on eye on you just in case," he said, tapping with his drum sticks on the bamboo head end of the bed.

She snorted and he realized she had slid down, her lips touching the small of his back now. She was doing just fine, he concluded, arching his back a little. Two warm hands cupped his butt cheeks and he sighed. He felt her spread them a little and place a kiss on the threshold of the small path diving in between his fleshy curves. He hummed appreciatively. Her hands slipped further down over his thighs and her warm breath furtively slipped over a very intimate spot. Goosebumps appeared on his buttocks and he began to wonder where this was leading to. When he felt her push his legs open, his head flew up and he glanced over his shoulder.

"Looking for hidden tattoos," she purred and blew softly on his now exposed balls. Partially reassured he buried his head between his arms and relaxed a little. The next moment he felt the tip of her tongue give his crack a firm lick. His hips bucked down and his head shut up again. He panted, unable to decide of he should look around or not, knowing she would stop if he did, fearing she would stop …

Her hands were caressing his thighs softly and her breath was still dangerously close to where he felt it shouldn't be, but she wasn't making any other movement. He realized he had maybe a fraction of a second left and she would make the decision for him. Blindly he reached behind him and took her right hand. Slowly he pulled up his right knee and placed her hand on his thigh. He felt the moistness of her tongue resuming its wandering trail. He lowered his head again and bit in the pillow.

Her right hand took over the lead and slipped over his right thigh, caressing, pushing teasingly, still followed by that commanding tongue. When she reached the hollow of his knee she slightly turned her wrist, escaping his hold and grabbing his hand in turn. She placed it at the inside of his thigh, guiding it slowly upward again. His hips came up from the bed as from their own decision. Their joined hands curled over his erect cock while her tongue took possession again of his pink colored opening, muscles nervously twitching.

Something disconnected in his mind. He let go of whatever doubts he may have had. All that mattered was the combination of exquisite sensations he felt in different parts of his lower body. While he continued to stroke his cock her right hand playfully slid over his hip and down, plunging towards his balls. With a groan he thrust his hips further up only to feel the incredible sensation of her tongue now breaching his entrance. He smothered his yelp in the pillow.

The heat! It burnt, starting from his lower body and irradiating throughout his entire being, reaching the tips of his fingers and descending to his toes, nearly suffocating him. The glow left his body through all pours of his skin, materializing in a microscopic veil of sweat. He lost notion of time and space, feeling slick in every intimate part of his body. She was working him solely with her lips and tongue now, using her hands to hold his hips and control his movements. Each time he thought he would slip over the edge into ecstasy she stopped him by pushing his lower body down into the mattress.

The exquisite torture went on until he screamed his frustration at her. At least he wanted to scream but was unable to produce more then a desperate growl. Chuckling she crawled upward and spooned his back. She hushed in his ear while her right hand curved around his own, still working his arousal. A sense of relief washed through his body and he narrowed his entire concentration on rubbing his cock. The strokes became more intense as her hand tightened his grip around his. He felt a familiar tensing and his release finally found its outlet.

 

He emerged from blissful oblivion because the nerve endings on his back reported a comforting warmth gone missing. It couldn't have long: every sinew in his body was still trembling. With some effort he managed to lift and turn his head, although the latter seemed to weigh a ton, and tried to focus through half closed lids. She was sitting between his spread legs, smiling sweetly at him. Thinking straight was still an effort beyond his reach. Something started dawning on him though. He tried to catch hold of a fleeting memory. He was missing something.

Realization came with the sound of a little "futh!" on his bottom. He glanced around again to get confirmation: she had laid hands on his drum sticks. When she heaved her arm to administer him another tap he sent her a glare. She lowered her arm and put the tip of the stick on her lower lip, pouting like a little girl. A little dazzled he watched her pull out the tip of her tongue and give the wooden instrument a little lick. He frowned and considered a good spanking. She reacted by sucking on the tip of the stick.

He decided to put a stop to the sacrilege but before he could grab her she jumped off the bed and dove underneath it. The mosquito net canopy swayed with their movements. Lying on his stomach he peaked underneath the bed but she had already reemerged on the other side. On her way she had apparently grabbed a little jar out of her bag. He recognized it: "baume érotique (4)" it was called. She had bought it in a new age-like kind of drug store in Madagascar. It was an oily kind of balm with a spicy smell and he had to admit that it served its purpose very well. However he wasn't quite sure why she was rubbing it all over his drum stick now.

Curiously he watched her put the slick wooden stick between her teeth and crawl over the bed towards him, with a mischievous grin on her face. When she reached him, she grabbed his ankles and spread his legs. Something short-circuited in his brain. No way was he going to wait and see if she was serious about this! He launched himself at her. She tried to ward him off and they rolled over the bed.

They landed on the floor, entangled in the mosquito net. Her burst of laughter resounded through the hut when he managed to get a hold of his drum stick and pulled it out of her mouth. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

 

The sound of the waves had become even more prominent in the silence of the night. New sounds, unfamiliar, intriguing, were immerging from the dark jungle right behind the hut, a bit disturbing maybe. He wasn't going anywhere anyway. She had readjusted the mosquito net, saying she didn't have a death wish yet, and they were cuddling together on the bed, facing each other. It was her turn to be wide awake while he was on the brink of exhaustion. He had lost the battle over his drum sticks, but he didn't mind. He had made her promise to respect them from now on and take good care of them. Presently she was stroking his back and he almost felt like purring. His consciousness began to float on another level and he let himself slip away willingly.

 

 

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Additional author's notes:

Footnotes:  
(1) "There were cows on the landing strip again."  
(2) "No shit!"  
(3) "Welcome to Africa!"  
(4) erotic balm


	7. Blood Is Thicker 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin is still on that plane heading for Paris, a little tipsy, goggling a stewardess. Some memories are coming back … Colin's POV.

Title: Blood is thicker 7. The Balcony  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared Leto  
Pairing: Colin/Jared   
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: slash (the regular kind), a kinky Colin.  
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And it's not going to make me rich.  
Beta: Kitty  
Mood creation: Alphaville – Point of Know Return (20th Anniversary Edition)

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Somewhere above the Atlantic

 

Cocky, that one. Could use a good spanking. My press agent would be ecstatic: "French stewardess caught in rough game with Irish hunk. Passengers on blabla flight recall how they opened the door of one of the toilets …"

_(Laughter)_

Fuckin' shite, that song's so fucking with my head!

_It is rapacious as fire and immovable as mountains,  
and as swift as the wind in that it goes without a trace and  
withdraws like lightning and it is like a force in that it's whirling  
and is rapacious as fire across a plain,  
not leaving a single blade of grass.  
But as immovable as a mountain and it is dark all around.  
It is hard to know as the dark ends up killing thunder._

If only I could've convinced Jared to let me have it my way with that pair of lace cords holding back those Persian curtains on set 4! I always could convince him to pretty much anything. But he beat the shite out of me with those cords. We had belly cramps laughing but it was clear it was a no-go for him.

_Welcome to the universe_

 

All that aside, when I think back on it I can't say he doesn't have guts …

 

\-----------------

 

London, winter of 2003/2004

 

"No way."

"Com'on. It'll be fun."

"I don't think I like your way of having fun."

"Yeah, you do."

I knew I could win this fight. Jared isn't that difficult to manipulate, he'll never back away from an interesting challenge.

"We've been joking about this hundreds of times. How we would go about it if Oliver had the guts to do it. How we would kick ass. Well, Ol' Olive came through."

"Joking about it is one thing, having my ass kicked for real on the big screen is another."

"J! You get off on exhibiting your pecs on screen, not to mention your ass!"

"Fuck you! I'm a serious actor."

I smirked and duck to avoid his punch. But he wasn't fooling me with his fake shyness.

"It's for his 'private' version of 'Alexander', his very own 'director's cut'." I couldn't hold a nasty grin.

"His and that of everyone he'll want to share his kicks with."

I burst into a roaring laughter: "What's the point in having kinky kicks if you don't share them?"

The edges of this mouth were twisting nervously, and I knew I was getting there.

"He could at least have the guts to ask me himself."

"He's goin' to. I just thought I'd prepare the way."

"No shit." He was seriously struggling to hide a smirk. I knew it was in the pocket.

At about that time Oliver came into Jared's room, looking a bit surprised to find me there. There was some really nervous twitching going on on his ugly troll's face, and I knew I had been right about not trusting him to convince Jared himself.

He scraped his throat. "Euh, Jared, I ..."

"Yeah, yeah, all right, I'll do it." Jared sounded annoyed and grumpy. He looked as if he wanted to take it out on poor Olive for having been lured into this trap. Lucky me.

Oliver looked as if Jared had just giving him an early Christmas present, spreading an angelic smile over his face. The perv!

"Jared, boy, I owe you big time. Whatever! Whenever!"

"Yeah, right. Don't you forget."

Once Oliver had left the room I turned to Jared.

"You're not feeling like … you know … pushed into this or something, do you?"

The look he turned on me put me right where I belonged: in the little corner for bad behavior, hypocrite that I was. We both knew I had pushed all the right buttons mercilessly.

I came close up to him with my head hanging down until I could almost nuzzle his neck and whispered in his ear: "I wanna know what we look like, you know … eternal love kinda shite …"

The corners of his mouth thrilled. He can't resist my beaten puppy-look.

 

So we left the hotel and drove back to the studios at Pinewood, completely deserted at this time of the night. On the way we picked up Rodrigo Prieto, our director of photography. Jared looked at him as a leashed dog looking at the stray cat wandering over his territory. But it wasn't working. Rod has known Oliver for years. Whatever crazy idea Oliver would come up with, it couldn't surprise him anymore. And he wasn't going to have his fun spoiled by a barking pup.

Jared and I went to the dressing rooms to prepare. When we were ready we joined Oliver and Rod who had been preparing the studio where we had shot the 'balcony scene' the previous day. It was freezing cold; even the spotlights wouldn't be spreading enough warmth to chase the chills out of our bodies. Jared and I weren't exactly dressed according to the season's temperatures and on top of that Oliver was switching on some fans to simulate 'a cool night's breeze on a hot Babylonian night'.

I knew Jared hates the cold and I saw him wrap his arms around his shoulders and frown. Oliver started giving us directions on how he wanted to film his scene. Rod and he would both have a light portable camera; Oliver would be concentrating on me, while Rod would glue his camera on Jared.

Looking Jared I saw his mind working, assimilating Oliver's directions, milling and transforming them into a performance that would have his own unique flavor. When he looked at me I knew he was ready to do it. But something was missing and I was afraid he would simply give me some smooth scholarly acting. I had to find a way to bring out the intensity I know he can put into it. Make him forget the cold and the slight irritation he was still feeling.

I held his gaze and slowly stepped towards him. I felt Oliver move quickly to grab his camera and signal Rod, panicking at the thought he had missed his entry ticket to this train ride to hell. I didn't care shit about clappers or "action!" orders or whatever and he knew it. I came to stand face to face with Jared and smiled at him. I put out my hand as if to stroke his face but my hand stopped before touching him. I slowly sank to my knees.

 

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

"Alexander, no!"

Shocked Hephaistion grabbed his king's arm and tried to pull him up. Alexander put his hands on Hephaistion's arms and looked up at him, still smiling.

"Hephaistion, you are my lifeline, my beautiful salvation."

"Please, don't ... I ask you, stand face to face with me. See me for who I am."

Alexander let himself be heaved up to his feet. "I see you and you are everything to me."

Alexander reached out again and this time his hand touched his lover. It softly caressed the bronze-skinned chest. His other hand joined in to travel slowly up to perfectly shaped shoulders, pushing the gold-embroidered, sea green silk robe further open, admiring beauty that would make the Olympian gods envious. He bore his eyes into the azure ones, where he saw emotions matching the ones rushing through his own body and he didn't resist any longer the urge to kiss the slightly parted lips.

Their kiss was full of tenderness and they delighted in it. They forgot the world around them and eternity passed by. Hephaistion only opened his eyes when he felt his Alexander break the joining of their lips. His king smiled at him while pushing him gently backwards, until his legs touched the edge of the balcony. Two strong arms lifted him up to make him sit on the broad stone ridge.

Beneath him Babylon boiled over with the heat of its night life. Hephaistion's legs were being pushed open and hands slowly traveled up the inside of his thighs. Alexander moved his body closer to him until they were face to face again. They renewed their kiss, more passionately now.

Hephaistion put his hands on Alexander's temples, burying his fingers in golden curls. He felt his lover's hands firmly move up his back and pull their bodies closer. His blood started racing and he whished he could melt and completely disappear in the other's arms, but to his surprise he felt his lover end the powerful embrace and push him down on the balcony border. His eyes flew open again, only to meet a loving smile, while Alexander lifted one of his legs and put it around his waist, leaving the other leg to hang down.

Alexander leaned over the body sprawled beneath him and let his hands explore the heaving chest, moving further down, over a trembling stomach. His hands left velvety skin and touched silk pants, searching the evidence of his lover's passion for him. He wasn't disappointed and decided he wouldn't deny himself the sight of this treasure. The fragile fabric didn't resist when he roughly tore open the pants and he delighted in the sight of the aroused cock now fully at his disposal.

He began to stroke it gently and his heart jumped up as he saw his Hephaistion arch his back and stretch his arms above his head. His long dark hair was flowing down the edge of the balcony, lifted up by the hot summer night's breeze. Voluptuous music, laughing, screaming and singing were bubbling up from beneath them. Babylon at night, alive, pulsing. Alexander knew he couldn't hold back much longer. He needed to take over and possess the beautiful man whose body trembled under his hands. Now.

 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

I heard Oliver's nervous cough, not half as discrete as he had wanted it to sound. I could have killed the old boar for his lousy timing. Damn his scenario and screen plans. I knew better. We knew better. Jared had been fully into it and responding perfectly. But the magic of the moment had been broken. Sighing I looked at Jared and he smirked back at me. Oliver shrugged with an apologetic smile and put the camera back up.

So I took Jared's hand and pulled him up gently. He slipped off the edge of the balcony, leaving the shreds of his silk pants where I had dropped them, and followed me while I backed up the stairs to were Alexander's room was supposed to be. The camera's followed us.

Now we had to change studios. I felt the positive tension between Jared and me slip away further: the actors' common faith. We would have to build it all up again.

Once we were in 'Alexander's room' I waited for Oliver and Rod to take positions. It gave me some time to think. Jared was looking around the luxuriously decorated set and I saw his gaze slip over the huge bed a bit too fast to my liking. He was beginning to have second thoughts! I could lose him now.

Grabbing his hand again I made him twirl. The light silk coat slipped from his shoulders. He was completely naked now. Slowly but inevitably I pushed him in the direction of the king-sized bed. When we got next to the bed I came close up in front of him. I put my hand up and pushed away his thick dark hair over his shoulder. Then I touched his face to stroke his cheek. My thumb brushed his lips and my heart skipped a beat seeing how quickly and easily he had slipped back into character. But it wasn't enough. I had to bring out that sparkle again.

I knew he had let down his guard. It would be easy to surprise him. I turned him around quickly and as I expected he hadn't seen it coming. He lost his balance and I took advantage of it to push him down on his knees, so that the upper half of his body came to rest on the bed.

The two zbirs just stopped breathing for a few seconds and then began to move around frantically, taking new positions. I couldn't concern myself with them now, because Jared had regained his wits and had decided he wasn't taking it any longer. I had to get down to my knees myself behind him. I took his wrists and pushed him back down on the bed. "Shhh, just go with it," I whispered in his ear. I pressed my nose in his hair and started kissing his neck. He growled and his struggling became a bit less forceful.

 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

The warrior in Hephaistion resisted to the submission his king demanded of him. He was torn between his desire to be loved the way his Alexander wanted him to and his soul claiming dominance. A frustrated moan slipped over his lips. Alexander's hands released his wrists and firmly moved down over his arms to his shoulders. He roughly massaged Hephaistion's tight muscles, moving on to his back. It felt like being oppressed by a burning hot irresistible force and he felt his resistance melting away. Moans and smothered whispers began escaping his mouth.

Alexander turned Hephaistion's face sideways and stroked away the long hair to be able to watch the beautiful features. He ceased trying to figure out his lover's whispered nonsense. His heart understood. Convinced now of Hephaistion's surrender, he rose to his feet. He let the heavy red coat slip off his shoulders and quickly stepped out of his pants. Grabbing the phial of scented oil always present at his bedside he knelt down again behind his lover.

Hephaistion felt his legs being pushed open further. When a slick finger entered him, his head flew up and a cry escaped his lips. Alexander slipped his arm underneath his chest, one hand stroking his face and throat while the other gently manipulated his opening, slipping in and out. Hephaistion felt his king breathe near his ear, whispering "Open yourself to me, my beloved. Give yourself to me." When the finger touched the secret spot that sent fire throughout his entire body he fell down again on the bed unable to withhold the moans. His body welcomed a second finger gratefully despite the initial pain, and his hips thrust upwards to meet the movement of those fingers.

Alexander put his free arm around Hephaistion's hips and pulled him a little bit backwards, away from the bed. He dipped his hand in the phial and then began stroking his lover's cock. He felt Hephaistion gasp, while his body tried to resist the stimulation that was bound to send him over his edge all too soon. Moaning, pleading, "No, too fast ... wait ... oh, Alexander ..." He wasn't sure he could hold out much longer himself. So he removed his fingers and entered his lover's body, claiming it as his own.

Hephaistion welcomed Alexander with a feral passion, meeting every movement of those thrusting hips. His king was ruling his body as well as his soul, and his initial resistance seemed plain insanity to him now. He was Alexander's, for eternity.

Alexander rejoiced in the powerful joining of their bodies and urged further on in a bedazzling rhythm. His hand was still worshipping Hephaistion's shaft while every one of his thrusts were directed at that spot that holds the key to paradise, until finally white semen was sprinkled over the imperial bed. He joined in Hephaistion's deafening scream and the cry of their passion spread through the room and into the Babylonian night.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Back high up in the sky

 

Why is she looking at me like that? I haven't been thinking out loud, have I? I'm not that drunk, am I?


	8. Blood Is Thicker 08

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin disappeared. Where to?

Title: Blood is thicker 8. Insecure  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared Leto  
Pairing: Shannon/Jared   
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: a tiny little bit of incest slash  
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And it's not going to make me rich.  
Beta: Kitty  
Mood creation: Linkin Park, 'Crawling'.

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Paris, extra muros

 

Shannon fought against the feeling of helplessness. Things had gone out of control. The last person who should have become involved in this crazy game has had the living daylights scared out of him. He couldn't get rid of the image of Colin's shocked face. Why for Christ's sake did Colin have to reappear into their lives right there and then?

He hadn't heard from the man he considered to be one of his best friends in months. The last time he had seen the Irishman had been at the première of 'Alexander' in LA. Since then there had been complete radio silence from Colin's side. Even more startling: Jared had stopped talking about him. Shannon had come to the conclusion that the two had broken up, as unconceivable as it seemed to him, and that the friendship between Colin and him had been sacrificed along with it. A shitty way to end things, but he hadn't hinted at it to Jared, sensing the subject was "delicate".

 

Oliver came in. "Did anyone see who got out of that taxi on my driveway? That guy sure got off again very quickly. I could have sworn I saw ..."

Shannon rubbed his face, feeling miserable. Oliver's eyes grew wider.

"What was Colin doing here?" he asked incredulously.

"You know what? If we knew that, I don't know, maybe we would have welcomed him in the kitchen with coffee or something …," Shannon snapped at him, despair making him edgy.

"Did he see you guys ... okay, never mind ..." Oliver's voice drifted off when he saw Shannon looking at him like a beaten dog. He scratched his head. "For all I knew he was over in Miami working."

"Dublin. He was supposed to be in Dublin. He got some days off," Jared said in a quiet voice.

Shannon stared at his brother. So much for thinking those two had broken off all contact. He was wondering why Jared had been so quiet ever since Colin left. He had no idea how Jared was reacting to the whole situation.

"So most likely he's back to the airport then," Shannon suggested.

"Maybe," Jared said.

"We'll go after him."

"And if he's not taking a plane to Dublin, you'll look quite the funny clown," Oliver remarked.

Shannon glared at Oliver, wondering if throwing the man a good punch would make him feel better.

"Oliver is right, Shannon." Okay, now his little brother was taking Oliver's side.

"We're just gonna do nothing then?" He couldn't believe them.

"It's not up to you to do anything, Shan, I'll go after Colin."

Shannon still couldn't figure out Jared's mood. Moreover he got the unpleasant feeling Jared was somehow shutting him out.

"We have to be sure the two of you won't be finding yourselves on opposite sides of the globe. We'll try and phone the airport," Oliver said.

Shannon started breathing a bit easier. At last Oliver was coming up with a useful idea.

 

Unfortunately it got them nowhere. Oliver argued with the sales agent. They didn't understand a word of his French babbling but in the end he put down the phone, sighing. "They're not going to tell us anything. Security regulations, you know."

The sparkle of hope Shannon had felt burned down.

"Couldn't that stewardess of yours do something?" Oliver suddenly suggested.

Could she? Where was she now? Shannon experienced a complete black-out. He had no idea if she was home, in a plane, or God knows where on this planet. He couldn't remember a single thing about her flight schedule.

"You do have her phone number, don't you?" Oliver looked at him as if Shannon had made up her entire existence.

"Yeah, I do, but I don't phone her that often. I mean, you know, what if her husband picks up the phone ..."

Oliver took out his cell-phone. "Give me that number."

 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

She had come home from the airport early in the afternoon. Staring at her kitchen she was wondering what force of nature had reduced it to a pile of fuming ruins in the course of merely four days of absence. The last serious storm to pass by in the region had been in 1999. She had started cleaning up the catastrophe when the annoying ring of her cell-phone broke through the grey mist inside her head. For a moment she considered pretending she just didn't exist anymore, but curiosity got the upper hand.

The funny accent at the other end of the line startled her: "Ne quittez pas, Madame. Je vous passe quelqu'un."

The phone was being passed on to someone else and then she recognized a familiar voice: "Hi, it's me ..."

"Shannon? Hi." Her heart made a little jump _(It really is!)_, but then she got this unpleasant premonition: "Love, what's wrong?"

"I need your help. I didn't know who else to call."

"Sure, just say it."

Shannon hesitated and seemed to be looking for words: "Mmm … I'm at Oliver's place …"

"Oliverrrr ...?"

"Stone."

"You're in France. Shannon, what are you doing in France?!"

"I'm with Jared. And I can't explain everything to you, but I need you to check on someone."

"Who?"

"Colin."

_Colin ..._

"Why?"

"Something happened. Colin is upset. We don't know where he's off to. We need to find out if he's taking a plane to Dublin."

_Shit! Colin never took that connecting flight to Dublin. He went to see his friend Oliver Stone and something had scared him off._ Suddenly she felt very tired, exhausted, completely burnt out. Then again, did she have a choice?

"Shannon, I'll have to get back to the airport. I don't have access to flight reservations or check in here at home. I'll phone you when I've found something. Give me a number."

 

She shouldn't be driving, she was too tired. She was an accident waiting to happen. Luckily she didn't have to get back to Roissy, all the way up north to Paris. Orly, her airline company's southern Paris base was only twenty minutes away from home and she had all she needed in the head offices over there.

She only had a rudimentary knowledge of the reservations program, but with the help of her tiny little manual she managed to come up with something. She stared at the screen for some moments, wondering.

 

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

The waiting was killing him. No, Jared was killing him. He wished he could slice open his brother's head and have a look inside. Jared was outside in the garden, staring into the distance. Shannon felt he needed to get over there.

 

Jared gave him a little smile when Shannon came up to him. It wasn't much but it was enough to break the wall Shannon had been feeling. He gently put his arms around his brother and he felt relieved when Jared melted in his embrace.

"It's all right," Jared whispered, "I'll find him. I'll straighten it out."

"You have to be in Jacksonville in 3 days."

"Don't worry. I'll find him in time."

Did he really want Jared to find Colin? _Really?_

He blocked out all thoughts. _Just nonsense._ He lifted up his brother's head to kiss him, hesitatingly. Jared opened his mouth and Shannon's tongue slipped in, having a mind of its own. The reality of standing there outside in Oliver's garden faded out. He entangled his fingers into his brother's long dark locks and the kiss became more and more passionate.

 

His cell-phone saved them.

"Shannon, Colin's on the next flight for New York."


	9. Blood Is Thicker 09

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin disappeared. Where to?

Title: Blood is thicker 9. Crawling  
Author: Leto's Ghanima  
Type: RPS  
Fandom: Jared Leto  
Pairing: Shannon/Jared, Jared/Colin, Shannon/?  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: slash, some incest slash, a little bit of mystery slash with some rimming involved, references to het slash, minor angst.   
Disclaimer: This is fiction. And it's not going to make me rich.  
Beta: Kitty  
Mood creation: Linkin Park, 'Crawling'.

 

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Roissy – Charles-de-Gaulle, next day

 

They were back in the glass palace. But this early morning in April the weather gods had condemned the whole Paris region. Shannon watched thick grey clouds mercilessly throwing floods of water against the enormous glass walls of the airport. The artificial light distributed by thousands of powerful spots exploded inside his head, aggravating his headache.

They had checked in for both their flights. Jared's flight for New York would be leaving an hour after Shannon's for Los Angeles. They went through the security gates together: it was agonizingly long, but they still had a lot of time to kill before Shannon's flight would be boarding.

Shannon watched his brother fiddling with some little pots in a French delicatessen duty-free shop. What did he think he was doing? Jared's gourmet tastes were anything but adventurous. He was capable of throwing his tomato salad right down the trash bin if the color of the dressing looked too conspicuous, but there he was checking out some odd looking French flavored mustard?

Jared's mind was miles away, that much was clear. Shannon wanted his brother there, with him, closer, much closer, so very much closer, but Jared moved on to a pile of richly colored napkins, Provencal style. Shannon thought he would pull his brother out of the duty-free shop by force, taking him anywhere, the toilets if it had to be, if only he could throw his arms around him and kiss him.

Jared slipped behind him to leave the shop. Shannon felt his brother's hand briefly squeezing his. Like a lost puppy he followed him to the next duty-free shop. How much longer?

 

He realized that, in fact, time had been slipping by way too quickly when it was too late. Jared's seemingly random wandering had brought them to the boarding gate of Shannon's flight. Adrenaline suddenly rushed through his veins and he pulled Jared a bit roughly into his arms as if to make up for the lost time. He buried his nose in his brother's neck and just held on to him until he felt Jared lifting up his face with both his hands.

Shannon stared into the blue eyes and felt for the first time in a long while as if Jared was really looking at him. "It'll be alright," Jared whispered and smiled before pushing him softly into the direction of the boarding gate. It took Shannon a lot of will-power to turn around and walk towards the plane.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Flight XX135, CDG/LAX

 

It wasn't going to be a nice flight. He had a window-seat in the rear end of the B747, which was packed like a tin of sardines. As soon as the plane had taken off, his stomach started complaining. The captain announced turbulence for the bigger part of the flight. Out of precaution he decided not to touch his food-tray. He stuffed a pillow between his head and the little window, observing the flight attendants at work.

It seemed like the whole crew was female. All of them tall blonds with clear eyes. He frowned. Was this a French plane or what? Where were the decent, small, dark-haired, brown-eyed French girls? A ten hour flight and he would be seeing her face where ever he looked.

His mind drifted off to the little parcel he had posted at the airport's small post office before checking in for his flight. The damned parcel he wanted to forget about. Why had it felt like he was punishing her?

_"Are you sure you want to get involved with a married woman?"_ she had asked him months ago, with a rrrrrrrrroling French 'r'. Her green yes had bored into his defiantly, but he knew that little accent only appeared when she felt emotionally insecure. "I can handle it," he had sneered at her. She had laughed at his arrogant tone, but he had seen the relief in her eyes. Now he was getting back at her for his failure, blaming her for feeling so fucking alone.

 

Denying himself food had been the wrong decision. The turbulence was getting more severe and he knew it was a matter of moments before the seatbelt sign would switch on. Panic made him rise and crawl over his neighbor's legs to hurry to the toilets. The moment he locked the toilet-door he heard the announcement over the public address: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are passing through an area of turbulence. For your safety please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt."

He knelt down and emptied his stomach in the toilet-pot, praying he would have enough time, but all too soon he heard a knock on the door. One of the blond goddesses urged him to leave as soon as possible. "I'm sick," he called out. The plane was shaking nervously and he knew she wanted to go and sit down herself. It was only a matter of time before she would open the toilet-door from the outside to check him out.

He pulled himself to his feet, flushed the contents of his stomach to the plane's waste reservoirs and opened the door. The stewardess dragged him back to his place with the sole willpower in her eyes and took off to her own seat. He rolled himself up in a ball and buried his face in the small pillow, trying to ignore the waves of nausea.

 

When he opened his eyes again the unpleasant movements of the plane had stopped. The stewardess was handing him a little goblet with water and an anti-nausea drug. It would take several hours before it would start having any effect, but the flight was still long. He thanked her with a tiny little smile and closed his eyes again.

 

He saw Jared's face against the insides of his closed eyelids, Jared smiling at Colin. Looking so happy … He wanted to reach out and touch his brother's face. Colin was grinning back at Jared, sweetly, but with a little devilish twinkle in his eyes. A red carpet and photographer's flashlights. Couldn't they leave them alone?

Older memories. New York. Colin was acting his heart out to get the scene right in as less takes as possible, because the film crew couldn't possibly block Time's Square for more than one day. Jared was looking in awe at the handsome Irishman, tripping on his own adrenaline. He had come to check out the leading actor of the movie that was to be called Phone Booth, even if he had no need to be there. The small part he was supposed to play in it would be shot indoors, a cameo Shannon had urged him to accept to take his mind of the disastrous turn his love life had been taking recently.

 

Maybe the Dramamine was starting to work. Maybe he would fall asleep anyway. He didn't feel like opening his eyes so he kept them shut. His body began to float. The feeling was a bit disturbing so he reached out. His fingers gripped the silk blanket covering the mattress. The touch of the hard mattress under his body was comforting, so were the hands skillfully kneading his back. He sighed when he felt a wet, hot tongue descend the length of his spine and two hands cupping his butt cheeks. They were being pulled apart and the teasing tongue pursued its way, alternating little licks with soft but insisting kisses. He lifted his hips when he felt a hot breath against his most sensitive spot, hoping one of the hands would slip underneath.

More floating. He didn't feel the hands anymore so he willed his body back down on to the mattress. A warm body spooned him from behind and he let go of everything.

 

When his eyes flew open they were immediately attacked by the sharp sunlight reflecting on the clouds beneath the plane. His biological clock started battling with his mind, trying to convince the latter that it had to be the middle of the night. He felt miserable. The plane had begun its descent to LAX. Diving into the thick pack of clouds the '47' started trembling again. The seatbelt sign was on: he was trapped. He grabbed the little paper bag in the seat-pocket in front of him, trying to avoid the look of panic in his neighbor's eyes, and vomited up his entire existence.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Los Angeles, 2 days later.

 

Shannon stared at his brother's computer. The little orange rectangle at the right bottom of the screen had been flashing for an hour now. Switching on the computer had automatically launched MSN Messenger. He had signed in and then he had left the chatting program like his ass was on fire, convincing himself that he didn't have time to chat. He had too much stuff to take care off.

Like what?

An hour. He wasn't only behaving like a coward but being a jerk as well. He clicked on the orange rectangle.

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: Hi.'**

He bit his bottom lip and started typing.

**'Taiko_drummer says: hi'**

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: Glad to hear from you.'**

He didn't know how he felt himself. He was oddly out of touch with his feelings.

**'Taiko_drummer says: yeah'**

No answer. She wasn't taking it very well. He felt remorse. She had been patiently waiting for him. But her next question made him bristle.

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: Is your brother alright?'**

That was none of her fucking business!

**'Taiko_drummer says: dunno'**

He could feel her freeze. Nothing happened on the screen. He felt more and more awkward and starting thinking of ways to end this agony other than virtually shoving the door in her face.

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: My husband found your package.'**

He died a thousand deaths. His fingers were paralyzed on the keyboard. When was the last time he had done something right in his life?

The sun went up and down a zillion times before letters popped up on the screen again.

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: I told him it was a rare movie I couldn't find in France. He wasn't interested.'**

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: I destroyed the tape.'**

He didn't know if he had to feel relief or anger because she had let him agonize like that. She was waiting for a reaction but he had no idea what to say.

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: Don't you ever do a stupid thing like that again!'**

He hit the button to sign out, got up and shoved the chair violently against the bureau. He hated it when people told him what to do, especially when those people were right, and especially, especially when it was her.

He had no idea for how long he had been sulking before he went online again. She was still there.

**'Taiko_drummer says: I'm sorry'**

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: I know. It's OK.'**

He knew better than to wait for an apology from her, but he still didn't know what else to say to her.

**'Taiko_drummer says: have to go'**

**'Eleanor_of_aquitaine says: Good night. I'm thinking about you.'**

Then she signed out.

He stared at the screen, chewing on his lower lip. Coming from her that last sentence was the most exuberant emotional outburst he had ever witnessed. He wondered what he had done to deserve it.


End file.
